Revenant(41)

“Why am I injured?” he rasped. And shit, he was dizzy.

“Metatron told me that we heal almost instantly from any wound,” Reaver replied. “Except those we cause ourselves.”

“That knowledge might have come in handy before I went Hiroshima on my own ass.” Except that he hadn’t done it intentionally. Clearly, there were still some kinks to work out with his new Shadow Angel powers.

Reaver pumped another round of energy into Revenant, and Rev groaned, sure his organs were exploding. “Dammit,” Reaver breathed. “I can’t heal you. We should get you to UG.”

Rev rolled out of Reaver’s grip. “I’m fine.” Black dots appeared in his vision. Yep, fine.

“You’re not fine. I can see your ribs. Your actual ribs.”

A wash of nausea made Revenant sway as he sat there, holding his hand over the wound. “I said no.”

“Stubborn jackass,” Reaver muttered. He jammed his hands through his hair and stared at the ruined ground. “What set you off?” When Revenant said nothing, mainly because pain had locked his jaw in place, Reaver expelled a raw curse. “Tell me what happened, Revenant. Tell me what happened to our mother.”

Fuck that. No way was he telling anyone that he was the reason their mother had suffered so horribly. Yes, Reaver now knew that she’d remained behind intentionally, but he didn’t need to know that every stitch of pain she’d experienced could be laid at Rev’s doorstep.

“I can’t.”

Reaver’s voice hardened. “Can’t, or won’t.”

“Does it matter?” Agony throbbed through his torso, and he sucked in a rattling breath. He needed to get to his place. Hole up. Lick his wounds.

“Dammit,” Reaver growled. “You need a doctor.”

Doctor. Why yes, yes he did need a doctor. One in particular. “You’re right,” he said. “Guess that’s what big brothers are for.”

With that, he gathered his last remaining bit of strength and flashed himself out of there.





Eleven





Someone was following her.

Blaspheme wasn’t sure how she knew that, but she was certain that someone was tracking her movements. Almost since the moment she left the clinic, a hinky feeling had latched on like a leech, keeping her looking over her shoulder and jumping at every loud noise.

And London had a lot of loud noises.

As she boarded a bus, she cursed her stupidity at renting a flat so far away from a Harrowgate. The walk will be nice, she’d told herself. On rainy days, I can take the bus, she’d said to her mom.

Great plan, except when there was an emergency, such as some homicidal maniac – or an angel – possibly following her.

She’d tried a repeat of the invisibility thing, but this time she couldn’t fully vanish even for a minute. Some of her body parts were as visible as usual, while others were completely indiscernible, and others transparent, like a ghost.

Her False Angel aura was wearing down, and it might only be a matter of days before angels and fallen angels could detect the truth about her origins.

It was time to ask Eidolon for help.

She dug through her purse for her phone and made a quick call to check on her mother, and after Gem reassured her that everything was fine, she left a message with Eidolon’s answering service. She needed to meet with him as soon as possible. She used the excuse that she had Gethel’s test results, which she hadn’t been able to share with him earlier. He’d been stuck in surgery all day with multiple victims of a Nightlash massacre, and she had a feeling he’d be pulling an all-nighter with that one.

The bus curbed it at her stop, and she made a speedy dash to her flat a couple of blocks away. The sensation of being spied on had gone, but the icky, oily sensation of having been watched left her feeling like she needed a shower.

Which meant that her mystery spy wasn’t Revenant. If he were observing her, the shower she’d need would be an icy-cold one.

As she entered her place, she didn’t think she’d ever been so exhausted. She dumped her bag on the floor of her flat and negotiated the maze of moving boxes on her way to the kitchen, wondering if she had the energy to make a sandwich. Turned out, she had the energy but not the ingredients.

She hadn’t been shopping in days, and pretty much everything in her fridge had gone bad.

Cursing her stupidity at not picking up something from the market down the street, she grabbed a cold beer and scrounged through her cabinets for microwave popcorn to munch on while she relaxed in front of the TV with her favorite show. It was Doctor Who night, and tonight’s new episode was supposed to be a game-changer.